


Nine ways to hell

by Bill_Longbow



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, BAMF Steve Rogers, But it's not a kid fic, Creepy, Creepy and angsty, Look at the title, M/M, No Fluff, Not rest of the mcu canon compliant, Pining, Post-Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie), Self-Hatred, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, at all, but it's not really, kid!Tony, perceived child abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-30
Updated: 2018-04-30
Packaged: 2019-04-30 08:28:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14492913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bill_Longbow/pseuds/Bill_Longbow
Summary: FRIDAY had warned him beforehand, sounding oddly detached, but nothing could have prepared him for the sight of a five year old Tony Stark napping on his bed. Sam had returned from the tower with this tiny version of the genius half an hour ago. Steve felt a headache coming, and it wasn't even two o’clock yet.





	Nine ways to hell

**Author's Note:**

> My fill for the Avenging comes in tiny packages challenge. Massive thank you to Politzania for cheering and beta-ing! Go read [their awesome fill](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14303412) for the challenge as well!

He stood on the threshold of the elevator to what used to be the communal floor, back before… He should probably put on some socks, but he had walked this route many times now (44 to be exact, but who's counting) and he can pick his way between the debris with his eyes closed. Besides, there was no one left to care if a bit of glass would cut open the sole of his foot. He sure as hell didn't. He sometimes even hoped it would, stepping dangerously close to the remnants of his furniture, fantasizing about how the pain would drown out the throbbing ache in his chest. He never did though, he didn't deserve release. That's also why he never took a sip of the bottle he had painstakingly retrieved from the ruins of the kitchen. Every night he took the same pilgrimage. From the anonymity of the guest suite he had taken to sleep in, he would go up with the elevator, up to the communal floor. There he retrieved a bottle of whiskey from the bar and he would take it to the stairwell. 163 steps to take him to the back entrance of his lab, JARVIS’ grave. He would sit facing the door, bottle in his lap, and mourn until the sun rose. Bleary eyed and aching all over, he would take the same route down, put back the bottle, and retreat behind the unmarked door a dozen floors down.

He knew something was gonna give. Either he would fail to get up one afternoon, the lure of self flagellation not enough anymore to get him out of bed, or he would finally give in and open the bottle. He didn't have any doubt that if he started drinking he wouldn't stop until he was dead. Today was not that day. Carefully he made his way to the bar and picked up the bottle. He didn't spare a glance at the broken furniture, moving to the stairs without incident. The first seven times he had had a major panic attack somewhere along the route, but you get used to everything eventually.

He walked the stairs slowly, deliberately. He didn't want his mind to wander to mundane things like how low his food stock was getting. This wasn't about him. This was remembrance of a being that he had brought to life, only to kill it. He tightened his hold on the bottle and walked to his usual spot.

It was maybe the second or third hour of his vigil when he heard footsteps. FRIDAY was always with him in his watch and phone, but the tower was defenceless, since… There just wasn't anything in it to defend anymore. In theory anyone could come in, but he couldn't think of anyone who would _want_ to. He readied his repulsor anyway, just in case, but lowered it when he saw who it was.

“What are you doing here?” He asked and let his head fall back against the wall. He didn't have the stomach for this.

 

~~~~~

 

“Captain, I implore you to go and have a look,” FRIDAY insisted. Steve looked up at the desperate tone the AI’s voice had taken. She had asked him to go to the tower before, afraid her creator might not be taking good enough care of himself. Steve had never agreed, he wasn’t Tony’s babysitter, besides, the man had made it clear enough he wanted nothing to do with them anymore. It had hurt, a bit, if he was totally honest with himself, but he couldn’t blame him. After the shitshow of Sokovia he didn’t want a lot to do with the Avengers himself. He didn’t have a fancy tower to retreat to however, so he was here, training new recruits, trying to mold the Avengers into a semblance of a team, having a daily talk with the reporters camped outside the compound, brokering with the remnants of SHIELD, the list of chores was endless really. This wasn’t a one man job, but his co leader had thrown in the towel so it all came down to him. Excuse him if he wasn’t too interested if Tony had enough to eat at the moment.

“Can’t you take a look yourself?” Steve turned back to the training review of the new super powered recruits. Right before Ultron they had put out an offer to train anyone who had any power that might be considered “super”. Unfortunately this meant a lot of wishful thinkers, people who just wanted to meet an Avenger and down right crazies. There were some promising ones as well, thank goodness. Miss Kahn had been a gift for instance. All the young and new ones were on a special training schedule however, with frequent evaluations of their powers and character traits.

“Captain, you’re well aware that I’m not installed in the tower yet. I can only monitor Boss from his phone and the suits, neither of which have moved for two days. Something is wrong, _please_.” If it were a human Steve would’ve said they were begging. He felt bad for the AI, it must be hard to do her job like this.

“I’ll send Falcon, he can take a look, would that be okay?”

“ _Thank you_ , Captain.” The relief in her voice was evident. Steve nodded and got back to work, sighing when he caught sight of the ever increasing to do list in the corner of his screen.

  


~~~~~

 

FRIDAY had warned him beforehand, sounding oddly detached, but nothing could have prepared him for the sight of a five year old Tony Stark napping on his bed. Sam had returned from the tower with this tiny version of the genius half an hour ago. Steve felt a headache coming, and it wasn't even two o’clock yet. He wiped a hand over his face to will his brain into action and motioned for Sam to step into the hall with him.

“Sam, what did you find besides _him_?” Steve had a hard time reconciling the boy in his bedroom with his former teammate.

“Found him watching cartoons and eating chips in one of the guest rooms. Lucky thing he did, Redwing picked up the electrical signatures of the tv.” Sam stepped a bit closer and leaned his head in. “Steve, the place was a mess, I don't think Stark had gotten ‘round to fixing his house yet, far as I can tell.”

Steve nodded, not sure what to do with this information. “Anything else?”

Sam shook his head and took a step back again. “Didn't stay, I wanted to take the kid to safety.”

“FRIDAY, when was the last time you're certain Tony was still himself?”

“62 hours ago boss activated his watch gauntlet. His phone and watch haven't moved since.” The disapproval in _FRIDAY_ ’s voice gave Steve a little stab of guilt, maybe he should've taken her worry more seriously sooner. Now they had a window of two and half days, the culprit could be long gone by now. The little voice in the back of his head that said he should've checked on his friend weeks ago, that there were more ways than one to let someone fall, it was pushed to the same place where all his other self blame resided, time for that later.

“Sam, could you stay with him?” Steve didn't want a little Stark waking up and running around here by himself, who knew what he was capable of even if tiny. With a nod Sam opened the door and sneaked back inside.  

‘FRIDAY, please put out the call to assemble asap, and try and get ahold of dr Strange.” Without waiting for a reply he set off for one of the meeting rooms.

 

~~~~~

 

They stopped talking when Sam neared the private common room, a large bundle in his arms. Dr Strange would arrive the next day and Nat and colonel Rhodes, who had flown in immediately after he was called, were off to the tower to investigate. That left Vision, Sam and him for now, some team, he inwardly scoffed. Tony was wrapped up in a blanket, only his tiny feet poking out underneath it, and an unruly mop of brown curls on top. Tony had buried his face in Sam’s neck, who walked unhurriedly, murmuring soothingly. It took some coaxing once he stood still, but then Tony chanced a tiny peek sideways, his eyes widening when they fell on Steve.

Steve didn’t have to fake a smile, kid Tony was adorable. You could easily recognise the handsome face the kid would grow into, but smaller, chubbier. Tony’s eyes seemed even larger in this tiny face, his hair curlier, less tamed. Tony quickly clung tighter onto Sam’s neck, whispering loudly.

“Is that Cap’n Murica?”  

“Yeah, Tony, one and only.” Sam resettled Tony onto his arm, from where he held onto Sam’s shoulder with one arm, putting the thumb of his other hand in his mouth. When Steve waved at him he smiled shyly, waving with the fingers near his face, not pulling his thumb from his mouth.

“Hello Anthony, I'm Vision,” Vision said from the other couch. As soon as Tony's eyes landed on the synthetic man he startled and hid in Sam’s neck again.

“We would like to have a talk with you, Tony, if that’s alright?” Steve tried, but Tony firmly shook his head, his face hidden.

“You don't have to be scared, Tony, Viz is like a cartoon character, you like cartoons, don't you?” Sam whispered in Tony's ear, which was rewarded by a tiny nod. “Which one do you like best?”

“Light’n mcQueen,” Tony said with a little more conviction.

“Can't blame you, man, he's cool. Bet you like his color, huh?”

An enthusiastic nod this time, and Tony looked around when Steve chuckled.

Wanna come sit on the couch?” Steve gestured next to him, but Tony firmly shook his head, grabbing hold of Sam tighter, whispering in his neck again.

“‘m I in trouble?”

“Of course not, but we’re curious about how you got to be where I found you, we want to make sure you’re alright.” Sam moved to sit next to Steve as he spoke, and sat down with Tony on his lap. The kid didn’t seem convinced, and only glanced at Steve sideways, leaning against Sam’s chest. The blanket dropped a bit and Steve saw they had clad him in what he presumed were the smallest shirt and shorts for new recruits. He was still swimming in them.

“Tony, what do you remember from, let’s say, a week ago?” Sam had told him Tony seemed to have lost all his adult memories, along with his adult body. Steve was curious how this worked. Did Tony have memories of being small? Did he only have memories of the last two days?

Tony didn't answer, just looked at him, now two fingers in his mouth.

“I understand, I barely remember what I've been up to yesterday,” Sam said with a grin. “Don't mind Steve here, he's boring ‘cause he's old.”

Steve squawked indignantly when Sam elbowed him in the side, and together they made Tony smile a bit.

“How old are you then?” Sam asked, arranging him more comfortably on his lap.

Tony held up five chubby fingers, so their estimate was right then.

“Do you know what year it is?” Steve took over again. A tiny shake of the head. “Where do you live?” A shrug. “Do you know the place where Sam found you?” Another tiny shake. “How did you get there?” Another shrug. Steve was about ready to scream at the lack of progress, and couldn’t keep back a deep sigh.

“Betcha liked the candy though?” Sam asked Tony with a wink and was rewarded by a mischievous grin. “How long you been there, son, aren't you hungry?”

“A bit,” Tony whispered so softly Steve could barely make it out.

“Come on, I was thinking mac and cheese, but only if you walk yourself.” Sam looked at Tony, who was biting his lip and played with the blanket. “Mac and cheese,” Sam singsonged, and this spurred Tony into action. He dropped off Sam's lap and held out his hand.

“Smart kid, I make a mean smoothie too, wanna try?” Together they walked to the kitchen.

Once they were out of earshot Steve turned to Vision. “What do you think?”

“Hard to say, Captain. I would say he's adapting remarkably well, but this seems to be a character trait. As for his lack of knowledge, we need more information before we can come to any conclusion.”

Steve nodded. Something was bothering him, but he couldn't quite say what it was. Something just seemed _off_ about the whole thing. Before he could put words to this gut feeling Natasha and colonel Rhodes entered, arguing under their breath. The colonel was livid, lips pressed in a thin line and his shoulders bunched up almost up to his ears. Natasha radiated tension as well, only subtly noticeable in the slight downturned slant of her mouth and a crease between her eyebrows. The fact that she showed this much was telling.

Steve stood and raised an eyebrow in question, but she ignored it in favour of dropping a bag on the table. “Nothing was tampered with, the idiot hadn't installed any security. Whoever’s responsible just walked right in and did whatever it was they did.”

“You don't talk about him like that,” Rhodes practically growled at her, looking ready to deck her even if he had to know that wouldn't end well for him.

“What else did you find?” Steve interjected before it could come to blows.

Rhodes turned his back on them while rubbing his face with one hand, something had deeply unsettled him and an unease grew in the pit of Steve's stomach. Instead of elaborating Nat took out a device and placed it on the table. “FRIDAY, lower the light please.”

With the lights off Nat turned on the projection, showing how Rhodes and Nat made their way through the ruined floors of the tower. The only thing Tony had bothered with was replacing the broken windows, the rest was exactly how they left it in a hurry after Ultron’s attack, including the food from the party, which was moulded beyond recognition. On the projection Rhodes held his arm to his nose against the stench.

“Oh, Tony,” Steve muttered under his breath, the visuals like a kick to the sternum. How the hell hadn't anyone known this? Because no-one had bothered to check on him, that vicious voice reminded him.

They carefully picked their way through the entire floor, but only found something of import in the hallway behind the main workshop. There Tony's clothes lay in a pile, his phone, watch and a bottle of scotch on the ground nearby.

Natasha fast forwarded the feed to where they stepped out of the elevator onto one of the public residential floors. Steve had a feeling where this was headed and steeled  himself. Rhodes opened one of the doors with a key card, his face morphing into a careful blank mask when faced with the contents of the room. When Nat stepped through with the camera Steve understood why, the room was a _mess_. Pieces of clothing, empty food packages and candy wrappers were half heartedly strewn about on the floor. When Nat walked further into the living area Steve saw Tony had completely demolished one of the cabinets, throwing its contents around and pulling it apart. Judging by the bloody smudge on the wall the cabinet wasn't the only thing to break. On and on it went, it seemed he had punched through everything with a reflective surface. In the bathroom they found old bloody bandages in the sink, between pieces of what used to be a mirror.

Steve bit hard on his finger as he watched and flinched, he hadn't even noticed he had brought his hand to his mouth, too horrified by the images his mind supplied of Tony moving through the room creating this chaos. Or worse still, walking around in it and not even noticing it anymore.

“I think we've seen enough, cut the feed, Nat,” he ordered as he ran a hand through his hair.

 

_“Please Captain, why don't you go take a look when you're in the city tomorrow. I don't think Boss is doing that good.”_

 

He shook his head. In trying to protect and find one friend he had left the other completely to the wolves.

“How didn't anyone notice? Miss Potts?” Steve knew he was trying to shift the blame away from himself, or at least distribute it over others, he just couldn't, not this too...

“Pepper and Tony broke up, I don't think she's in town at the moment,” Rhodes said still facing the window, arms across his chest.

This news left him reeling, Tony must've felt utterly alone. But why alienate himself from them as well?

 

_“You know Ultron is trying to tear us apart, right?”_

_“Well I guess you'd know. Whether you tell us is a bit of a question.”_

 

Laughing from the kitchen made him snap back to the situation at hand. “Did Sam find the kid in _this_?” His stomach churned at the idea of a little boy living there.

“No, he seemed to stay on another floor entirely, where all the doors were unlocked due to a power outage,” Rhodey bit out.

“We didn't find anything useful,” Natasha took back the lead. “No signs of breaking in, cameras and all electronic security measures were offline, but as far as I can tell, they have been since Ultron. _Anyone_ could've walked in.” The implications of that made Steve pinch the bridge of his nose, forcing his attention back to the matter at hand.

“What's the most likely scenario?”

“We’ll need Strange to do an analysis to see if any magic is involved,” Nat stated, making Rhodes snort. “The list of possible perpetrators is long,” she continued unperturbed. “Stark makes enemies faster than he built suits.” Rhodes turned around to glare at her, but didn’t comment. It wasn’t a secret how many enemies Tony had acquired over the years simply by being Tony Stark and then even more as Iron Man.

“We’ll start with making a list. FRIDAY try and locate the most likely candidates.”

 

~~~~~

 

Later Sam brought back a greasy cheeked and much more chatty Tony into the dining area. He was practically bouncing around the room, asking everyone a myriad of questions, but he stayed closest to Sam. Tony had startled the first time FRIDAY's voice came through one of the speakers, but soon he was chatting with her too, giggling in delight at the holographic games she displayed for him and badgering the others in playing with him.

The tension in the room dissipated and Steve noticed how everyone was looking at Tony with endearment.

Steve kept himself apart though. The day's revelations had left him threadbare and he felt vulnerable in ways he really didn't want to examine right now. Interacting with this tiny version of Tony, with the knowledge of how much his large counterpart had suffered, without Steve acknowledging it or making any effort to see him, was more than Steve could bear at the moment.

Tony pouted something fierce when Sam picked him up to bring him to bed. They had put an extra bed in Sam’s bedroom, as Tony seemed to be most comfortable with him. When Sam turned to let him say his goodbyes Tony whispered something in his ear. “Sure, but you gotta ask him yourself,” Sam replied.

Steve groaned when they came his way, his patience was wearing thin and he was restraining himself from snapping at people again. He had been short with his teammates when they were brainstorming possible culprits, to the point where they left him alone. He hadn't been able to concentrate at all, images of Tony ghosting through the remnants of what had been their _home_ taunting him, alternated with ‘what if’s...’. What if he had gone round to the tower sooner? What if he hadn't accepted Tony's resignation. What if he had dared to flirt back. What if he hadn't pulled back, his heart beat loud enough to drown out all other sound, when Tony had leaned in that time after a midnight movie together. What if he had been man enough to face Tony's reaction to what they had found in that bunker and _ask for his help_. What if, what if, what if… Round and round his thoughts went, making him feel more and more on edge.

When Sam and Tony were close the tiny genius smiled at Steve, blinking sleepily. Sam nudged him, “come on, man, he won't bite.”

“Cap’n Murica?” the boy whispered, “want you to read me a bedtime story.” He smiled hopeful, adding “please?” as an afterthought.

Rhodes stepped in before Steve could answer. “Cap here is a bit tired himself, but Sam and I could do it together?” Rhodey had been itching to get on the boy’s good side, with limited success. Young Tony  didn't seem to share the same preferences for people as he had as a grown up, clinging to Sam instead of Rhodey.

The boy jutted out his lower lip and shook his head stubbornly. “I want Cap’n Murica.” He even crossed his arms in front of his chest, the picture of absolute immovability. There really wasn't any way Steve could decline, even if he longed for the solitude of his own quarters. He shrugged apologetically to Rhodes, stood, and gave Tony a tired smile, sticking out his hand which the boy took without hesitation. Together they followed Sam to his quarters, where Tony's bed was set up in the living room. Sam showed them where they could find pajamas, recently flown in in Tony's size, together with some toys and things children needed. Who knew you have specialised kids toothpaste? After a big hug and a tickle, making Tony giggle and squeak, Sam left.

Steve's heart clenched when Tony stared up at him, his face still scrunched in laughter. He wondered at what age Tony had learned to shutter his gaze and hide himself behind that mask of careful indifference. He carefully stroked Tony's hair, needing to ( _finally_ ) show his affection, and went over to the sink to ready the toothbrush. He went down on one knee and beckoned Tony, who bounced over.

“Can you brush yourself, or do you need help?” He smiled when Tony came up close to whisper in his ear. Small Tony's tendency to whisper when he felt shy was such a contrast with the way he would later deal with feeling uncomfortable.

“Cap’n?” The boy whispered in his ear

“What is it, Tony?”

“You'll never see him alive again.”

Steve was sure he misheard and sat back from where he was leaning in, straining to hear Tony's whisperings. “What?”

Instead of an explanation Tony grinned. “I don't wanna,” he said, and suddenly Steve’s voice came from Tony's mouth. “Come on, brat, can't you listen for once in your life!” Tony whimpered in his own voice again, before turning back to Steve's, yelling “That's enough!”

Steve stared in horrified fascination as the… the thing that posed as Tony clapped his hands loudly, yelling “Ow”. At the same time a bruise began to bloom on its face, in the shape and size of a large hand. Steve stumbled backward, away from whatever had possessed Tony, and Sam came running back in. To- the thing sat crying in the corner of the bathroom, heartbreaking sobs echoing between the tiles while Steve leaned against the sink, hands before his mouth.

At the look of worry Sam shot his way he suddenly realised how this looked. “No! That's not… That's not Tony…”

Sam completely ignored him, hugging Tony instead. He visibly recoiled when he wiped Tony's hair away from his face and saw the handprint. Steve took a step forward when Sam looked at him horrified. “You don't understand! I would never… Come on, Sam, you know me better than that....”

“Captain, one step closer and I will deploy countermeasures,” FRIDAY’s icy voice came over the speaker.

A surge of relief flooded Steve, the camera images would prove him right. “FRIDAY, tell Sam what really happened.”

Before FRIDAY replied Nat came running in, quickly followed by Rhodes. She took one look and pulled him out of the bathroom by his arm. “Nat! That thing, that's not Tony! We'll have to question it and find out where they're keeping him” Steve's brain was going into overdrive. If this wasn't Tony then where was he? He resolutely ignored the idea of Tony being dead, that just wasn't possible. He let himself be pulled into the hallway, better to talk strategy where that thing couldn't hear them.

“We'll have to put it in the hulk room, that's most secure. There's no telling what it's capable off.” He looked at Nat and Rhodes expectantly, waiting for questions and speculations. Instead they wore twin frowns.

“Steve,” Nat started. “You've been under a lot of pressure lately, and I think it would be wise for you to take some rest.” She looked at him pointedly, but he was much too agitated to question it.

“I'll rest when we've got Tony back, Nat, come on, let's question that _…_ whatever it is, every second might be too late.” He made to move past her, but she stopped him with a hand on his chest.

“FRIDAY, what happened?”

Instead of answering FRIDAY played the audio clip from the past minutes. Steve looked at his teammates’ expressions as his voice said those horrible things and the… the being clapped its hands. Steve trusted them. They were both too professional to fall for such an obvious ruse.

“Rogers, I don't know what the hell happened, but if you laid one finger on that boy, I swear to God…” The colonel didn't finish his threat, visibly reining himself in by clenching his jaw.

“You don't really think I would…” Steve couldn't even say it. He wiped his face with his hands. “Look, if you would just watch the video feed… FRIDAY?”

“The cameras in the private quarters only record on request and in emergencies, ensuring the privacy of its inhabitants.”

Steve wilted under the judging stares of his teammates. From inside the room he could hear soft hiccups, together with Sam's deep voice murmuring reassurances. “I would never do that,” Steve whispered, pleading, _begging_ Nat to understand.

“You haven't been yourself for some time,” she replied, and Steve really didn't like where she was heading.

“But Nat…”

“We're going to investigate, but for now... I think it's better if you left.” She squeezed his arm and stepped back into the room. Rhodes followed her after shooting him a thoughtful glance, leaving Steve standing alone in the hallway, his shoulders drooping in despair.

 

~~~~~

 

Steve choked back a gag, the smell of rot and decay overwhelming his sensitive nose as soon as the elevator doors opened onto what used to be their common floor. He took the time to take in the destruction. He hadn't been back here since that night they had hastily left for Johannesburg, the night it all had went to hell.

He could easily see himself and his team, mingling at the party, and later joking around when they were just among themselves. Laughing and trying in turns to lift up Thor’s hammer. He knew full well Mjolnir would never allow him to lift it, with the dark secret he had carried, was still carrying.

 

_“Sometimes my teammates don't tell me things. I was kind of hoping Thor would be the exception.”_

 

He loathed himself for saying that, but it had been so much easier than letting out the things that threatened to overwhelm him at night. So much easier to stab and hurt than to say “please, forgive me.”

His hands itched to clean up, to do something, _anything_ , but undoing this devastation wasn't his first priority. He checked his phone again before stepping further. Still nothing. It stung more than he liked to admit, that since he left the compound in a rush a few hours ago no one had checked in with him. _Just like they hadn't with Tony._ Guilt rose like bile in his throat and he had to swallow it down before he could continue.

Steve had come here to figure out what was going on, not to wallow, he chided himself. He wrapped his scarf around his mouth, turned on his flashlight and stepped onto the floor. His search of the floor didn’t yield anything than utter sadness this was how their home had ended up as. He was almost too tired to think, but he _had_ to find Tony, no one else was looking for him. Maybe he should start with the floors where Rhodes and Nat hadn't looked yet.

He stifled a yawn as he made his way to his own floor, just one floor down from the common floor. It was way past midnight, and with all the emotional turmoil of the last day he was nearly braindead with fatigue, but he had walked this way so often that he could do it on autopilot. His quarters were just as he had left them. He checked the bedroom first, where his dirty laundry still laid in the corner, the bed unmade. Next he walked onward to the living area, where everything seemed in order too, until his flashlight hit the bookshelf next to the couch. The books were lying haphazardly piled onto the shelf, which was odd, he always kept them in a neat row. It was one of those things of growing up dirt poor, he considered all paper precious, and books even more so. Had Tony come down and rummaged in his teammates’ rooms?

Steve walked further, shining his flashlight here and there, searching for more irregularities. When he was near the couch he couldn’t hold back the sob that welled up from somewhere very deep. On the floor lay the remains of countless of drawings. Drawings he had made of Tony. Tony bent over the innards of his suit in the workshop. Tony looking sleepily into his coffee. Tony working out in the gym. Tony asleep on the couch after an engineering bender. Tony smiling at Steve when they were out for lunch. The impersonator, (or maybe it had been Tony, his mind supplied) had ripped the drawings out of his sketchbook and ripped them to pieces, but why? He bent down to pick one up where Tony’s face had survived almost intact and put it in his pocket.

  
~~~~~  


He was in the stairwell on his way to Clint’s floor when suddenly his phone rang. _Come Fly With Me_ echoed obnoxiously between the tiles and concrete. Tony had installed it as a gag after he had flown Steve to safety in a mission, and Steve had never come round to change it. He didn’t recognise the number on the display.

“Hello?”

“Steve?” A whisper, but unmistakably Tony's voice.

“Tony? Oh my God, where are you? Are you hurt?” Steve was flooded with equal parts worry and relief.

“Steve… I… They're gone for a bit, I hacked into the system, but I can't get out, you have to help me, _please.”_ Tony sounded wrecked and worry took the upper hand.

“Of course! Do you know where you are? What do you see?”

Steve walked out of the stairwell and onto Clint’s floor, glad his voice didn't echo anymore.

“I… I don't know, there's nothing here, brick walls, concrete floor. Could be any industrial building.”

“Friday, locate this call,” Steve nearly yelled into his phone. If anyone could find Tony it would be her.

“Boss?” She asked confused.

Tony didn't seem to hear her. “They made me.... Steve… it _hurts_ ,” Tony sobbed and Steve pulled on his hair while he paced up and down, feeling so _helpless_ he was vibrating with restless energy.

“Tony, you have to hang in there, we'll find you, Friday's tracing you as we speak,” he tried to comfort Tony.

“Why did you leave me?” Tony whispered, making goosebumps rise on Steve's arms and neck.

“I'm sorry, I'm so, so sorry, Tony, we'll come get you and then we'll--”

He was cut off as Tony started laughing. “You're pathetic, Rogers, you should be ashamed, letting your teammate rot alone like that,” Steve froze as the voice changed into one he didn't know. “Empty promises, just like you made us,” the voice yelled angry suddenly. “You _won't_ see him alive,” it hissed just before cutting the line.

“Friday, did you get the location? And notify the others immediately,” Steve barked.

“On it, Captain. It seems to be speeding towards the tower,” she said, sounding confused.

“And the real Tony? Fri, he's here and he's alive. Doesn't he have--”

“Steve?” Natasha interrupted him, Friday put her through without alerting him.

“Natasha! Are you guys okay? Is little Tony still there?” Steve had no idea what this being was capable off or how it was able to get to the tower so quick. Assuming it was the same one.

“Tony is missing and Sam is unconscious but breathing. We originally thought Sam was with you, Steve, since he took the quinjet over half an hour ago.” Natasha sounded rattled. “They're combing the compound for Tony as we speak… I’m sorry for doubting you Steve.”

“Don't be, I’m glad we’re on the same page now. The big question is _where’s the real one_ , there's over 90 floors here,” Steve started pacing again. “Where can you hide a person from scanning equipment, assuming they're smart enough to think of that…”

“Server room,” Natasha and Friday said at the same time. “The server room in the basement is heavily shielded,” Friday added. Steve was out the door and into the stairwell before she was finished talking. “Stay with me,” he called while securing the phone in his coat pocket. He jumped down the stairwell opening, occasionally grabbing onto the railing to break his speed before letting himself drop further, and reached the bottom floor in record time with only a few bruises. From there he had to speed through the central entrance, yelling “Avengers business” at the night guard patrolling, until he reached the service elevator, which was out of commission. He forced open the doors and jumped the two floors down, thankful the elevator hung high above.

The doors to the floor didn’t open as easily as the ones upstairs. He had to wrangle his shield in between them and heave with all his might for them to budge. He grunted with the effort, willing all his strength into opening the doors and getting to Tony, a sense of urgency driving him. He _had_ to get to Tony before that… that demon did.

Finally he pushed them open enough for him to fit through and he pulled out the phone from his pocket. “Friday, you’re still with me?”

“You're fa-- away, Cap--,” she replied and he took a step back until he stood pressed against the half open elevator doors.

“Friday?” While he listened for her he took in the space before him. One large room, filled with man height server cabinets, green security lights cast an eerie glow. It was cold enough for Steve’s breath to come out in white puffs and he could hear nothing but the quiet humming of the climate control and the servers. Steve had thought them to be dead along with Jarvis, but somehow they were still running.

“Sorry Captain, you-- on your own further onto -- floor.”

“Acknowledged.” Steve put the phone back in his pocket and slowly made his way between the rows and rows of cabinets, suppressing a shiver against the cold, when he heard someone breathing. He turned around, but there was no one there. He pulled the shield from his back and walked on as silently as he could, carefully checking around each corner. If it wasn’t for his enhanced vision he would have missed the dark shape huddled in the furthest corner, hidden in the shadow of the cabinet.

Steve’s heart skipped a beat when he saw it was a human form, and seemed to stop all together when he was close enough to make out Tony's deadly pale features. He looked horrible, lying on his side, one eye beaten shut, and his hands bound behind his back at an odd angle.

“You're too late, _Cap’n Murica_.”

Steve whirled around to face the impostor, who blinked up at him with tiny Tony's impossibly large doe eyes and had the audacity to do a little wave. “Told you so,” he grinned and put his thumb in his mouth.

Steve needed to check on Tony, but for that he would first have to apprehend this… thing. “Game's up, you're coming with me,’ Steve said and took a step forward. He needed to get to a higher level to ask for backup, though he hoped fervently his team was on its way already.

“Hands where I can see them. How did you get down here anyway?”

“Private elevator, Mister Stark was kind enough to bring us here himself.” As he spoke little Tony's body started to stretch and elongate, tearing his clothing, his face losing its roundness, becoming more angular, the hair turning lighter, until Steve was staring at an exact replica of himself.

“You’ve got to help me, Tony, I don’t know who else to turn to,” not-Steve said, holding his hands out pleading and looking anxious, before grinning. “For a genius he was awfully gullible.” Not-Steve’s expression turned annoyed. “When he found out he didn’t put up much of a fight, _pathetic_. I hope you will be different, Captain.”

From out of nowhere non-Steve’s fist shot out at Steve, his arm elongating and the fist growing exponentially. Luckily Steve had been training with Miss Marvel, and saw the move coming in time to jump aside and kick the thing’s elbow the wrong way with a sharp crack. Non-Steve yelled in pain, but the arm wobbled and morphed back to its right size and shape. Then the entire body shifted and stretched until a large snake lay coiled between the clothing. It slithered its way to Steve, winding tight around his ankles until he fell over. Steve tried to pull it off as it wound its way higher onto his body, but the head changed into that of a tiger and he narrowly caught the maw before it ripped into his neck. It was getting increasingly difficult to breathe, with the snake winding tighter and tighter around his torso, but Steve managed to dislocate the tiger’s lower jaw and instantly the pressure eased. He tried to hold onto the tiger’s head, but it shifted again, shrinking into a little mouse. Steve caught it by its tail when it tried to run away.

“Oh no you don’t,” he muttered while trying to run with it towards the elevator shaft, but it shifted again and again, from mouse to bear, to wolf, to bird, scratching and biting him, trying to peck out Steve’s eyes as the last. Somehow he managed to hold onto it and even move to the elevator shaft, desperately slow. At last the thing changed to human again, into adult Tony as Steve had last seen him all those weeks ago.

“Steve, what are you.... help me, Steve,” Tony pleaded while Steve pulled him along on his arms and tried to ignore him. “Steve, I… I love you,” the thing that posed as Tony cried out pitifully and Steve felt his anger surge. How _dare_ it use those words on him. He raised his fist and knocked Tony out cold, crying as he did so. As it lost consciousness the body changed into that of a young man, not much older than twenty Steve guessed. He checked his pulse and breathing and left him where he lay, confident he would stay unconscious for a while. He made a quick call to Friday and then ran back to where he had left Tony, anxiousness a thick knot in his stomach, chanting he’s not dead, he’s not dead in his head, willing it to be so.

Tony lay in the exact same position, but when Steve crouched next to him he detected a very faint pulse. Sending a silent thank you upwards he gingerly turned Tony a bit to the side so he could unfasten him from where he was chained to the wall. His hands were blue and swollen, and his face contorted in pain when Steve picked him up, but mercifully he stayed unconscious. Steve carefully brought him back to the elevator, and held him in his arms until the paramedics arrived.

 

~~~~~

 

It took Tony almost two weeks to wake up, and Steve had spent all that time on his bedside. They had managed to save Tony’s hands, dr. Cho and her cradle worked miracles, and with the IV and feeding tube he had regained some of his weight. He had been severely dehydrated and malnourished, not solely by his captivity. All the other avengers had visited, even Miss Potts had come by to make sure all paperwork was in order. Sam had recovered fairly quickly, though he had carried the bruises around his neck for a week, where Jackson Turner, as the shapeshifter turned out to be called, had strangled him. Jackson claimed his family had perished in the New York attack, after Captain America had told them to stay put in an overturned bus, promising help would be on the way. He had traveled to China to seek out the Inhumans and was deemed worthy of undergoing Terrigenesis where he emerged from his cocoon as a shapeshifter. The kid was waiting for his trial in a prison called the Raft, and for all the grief he had caused, Steve couldn’t help but feel a bit sorry for him.

Steve was drawing in the window sill of Tony’s hospital room when there was movement on the bed. He turned around and there lay Tony, watching him silently. With trembling hands he lay down his pencil and sketchbook and went over to the bed, followed by Tony’s gaze. He took Tony’s hand in his and couldn’t hold back a sob. “I’m so sorry, Tony. I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he whispered. Tony just looked at him, but finally nodded and squeezed his hand before falling asleep again.

 

~~~~~

 

Steve told him everything. At night, when Tony woke again and seemed more lucid. He told about Bucky and how Hydra had tortured him into being the Winter Soldier. He told about Zola and how he showed Howard’s death hadn’t been an accident. How Steve almost knew for certain his best friend had killed his other friend’s parents, how he had been too afraid, too much of a coward to tell him about it, and the longer he waited the more impossible it became. They cried together and Steve begged Tony for forgiveness, expecting fully to be turned away, but was surprised by a warm hand on his shoulder as he sat hunched at the side Tony’s bed.

“I’m glad you told me now,” Tony said after he had pulled back his hand and used it to pluck at the sheets. “I’m not happy you waited for me to… you know, almost kick the bucket, but I understand you were scared for your friend. Don’t know what I would do if it was Rhodey…” Tony tried to pick up his cup of water from the nightstand and Steve quickly gave it to him. He was obviously trying to gather his thoughts and Steve waited him out, content to give Tony whatever he needed.

Tony sighed in his cup. “I’m hurt you didn’t think I would help you find him. I’ve seen files on the Winter Soldier, in the data dump and… How could you think I wouldn’t help him?”

Now it was Steve’s turn to fiddle with his hands. He had asked himself this question countless times. He had seen Tony’s generosity, experienced it firsthand, it seemed endless. Steve had never seen Tony turn away anyone, so why his fear?

“I wasn’t only scared for Bucky, or for the hurt it would cause you to know the truth.” He cleared his throat. “I was mostly scared for me, that this, that you wouldn’t, that you couldn’t…” He ran his hands through his hair, agitated. He pulled out the piece of paper he had rescued from his sketches out of the breast pocket of his shirt and handed it over to Tony. It had been one of his favourite sketches, of Tony smiling at him while he was gesticulating wildly, regaling something he had heard that day. Of the sketch only Tony’s face was left, but it was still obvious how much effort the artist had put in to get the details just right.

Tony held his hand to his mouth when he saw the drawing, his eyes darting between the piece of paper and Steve. “It’s true?” he whispered more to himself than as a question for Steve.

Steve nodded silently, not entirely sure what he was confirming, but Tony took it as his cue to continue. “The boy, Jackson, he came to me, with a few of these, he showed me. I thought it was a ruse, another way to hurt... “ Tony smoothed out the wrinkles of the paper on his lap. “He came to me disguised, transformed whatever, as you and showed me. Told me how you used to care for me but that I had pushed you away, like I push everyone away.” Tony looked up, and Steve felt a jolt by the intensity in his eyes. “I told him you would come. It’s how I got the shiner,” he grinned, “I told the kid you would kick his ass nine ways to hell. I’m sorry I didn’t see you do it.”

Steve couldn’t help but grin with him, and looked down when Tony tentatively took hold of his hand. “Didn’t believe they were real,” Tony said softer, almost shy.

Steve nodded again, “They are.” He stroked Tony’s knuckles with his thumb, how simple it actually was, telling the truth, how much heartache could’ve been spared. “I was scared I would lose my only chance with you, and I just couldn’t.” Saying it out loud made it sound silly, unbelievable.

But Tony pulled Steve’s hand to his lips and kissed it, and when Steve looked up Tony smiled at him. “It’ll be alright.”

 

  


**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi on [Tumblr](http://bill-longbow.tumblr.com) or join us on the [ Stuckony discord server ](https://discord.gg/jtXcc3n) for all things Tony, Bucky and Steve!


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